


Slippery Stuff

by rivers_bend



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Real Person Fiction, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Adam, in Tommy's experience, gives pretty good advice, so Tommy's trying it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorchasilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorchasilver/gifts).



> I do not know any of the people whose personas are mentioned here, and neither believe nor mean to imply that this ever happened or ever would.

It's been approximately a hundred years since Tommy has been both awake and alone at the same time. Apparently, touring Europe is exhausting—who'd have thought—especially with Mr. Sure-we'll-do-that Lambert. And fine, it was kind of awesome, too, and he wouldn't even be complaining, except he got home to a roommate who wants to talk to him _constantly_, and friends who keep calling, and like, baby showers and shit, and fucking hell, sometimes a guy wants more than three minutes in the shower to jerk off is all he's saying.

But _finally,_ Tommy has the place to himself and he's turned off his phone and he's totally going to do this thing.

He starts with some porn, because hell, he's home alone, and there's nothing wrong with getting together with the guys and watching Ram Rod II or whatever, but it's not the _same_, and a good movie sounds like just the thing to get him really in the mood. There are a couple new DVDs on the shelf since last time he looked and he puts one in at random.

It starts with three girls in a hot tub, talking about sex and pulling each other's bathing suits off. Tommy waits for the cheesy music to start, but they just keep chatting and laughing, and when they get out some dildos and a bottle of lube, Tommy figures he's in luck. He slumps lower on the couch, spreading his knees, palming his dick through his jeans, not getting started, just getting comfortable.

He watches through the end of the clip—about twenty minutes—eyes going wide when one of the girls takes a dildo the size of Tommy's wrist up her ass, and even wider when another one begs her friends to put two just as big into her pussy. Tommy takes a moment to hope the girl really is a lesbian and doesn't just play one on TV, because it has got to be hard for her to find a guy big enough to turn her crank if that's what gets her off.

He practically nuts in his pants when the chick comes so hard she almost passes out, but he grabs his dick and holds on. The next clip starts with cheesy music and a girl who looks like she's about to slip into a boredom coma, but Tommy doesn't need any more than the double-dildo girl, he's definitely in the mood, so he thumbs off the TV and heads for his room.

There's a moment where he almost has to quit early—damn skinny jeans can be dangerous to a guy when he's horny as hell and in a hurry—but he escapes with his junk intact and once he gets his shirt off, it's just him and his tatts. Oh. And the sample of lube Adam gave him in London. And no, before you ask, it wasn't like that.

Adam and Monte got talking one night about what their favorite brand was for jerking off. Tommy was only half listening while they argued about textures and wetness and oil versus water or whatever; he had no interest in actually getting _involved_ in the conversation. But then fucking Monte had to go and ask him straight out what he used, and, still thinking about the girl at the bar who might have been a dude but either way had really nice legs and was adjusting the seam on her stockings, Tommy just breezily said something about using hand cream if there was any around or spit if there wasn't, which led to Adam staring at him like he just said he jerked it with Tabasco. Except Adam might find that amusingly kinky, so maybe not even that.

"You so don't know what you're missing," Monte told Tommy.

"Baby, that's _sad_," Adam added. "If you don't take care of yourself, who will?"

Tommy muttered something about needing another drink, and wandered off to find Cam, who he was pretty sure wouldn't be talking about lube, and he thought that was the end of it. But the next day as they were climbing into the van Adam slipped something into Tommy's palm and said, "Here you go. Just try it."

Adam, in Tommy's experience, gives pretty good advice, so Tommy's trying it.

It's messier than lotion, though he's never tried lotion in a little packet before, so that might be part of the problem. But it is really slippery, like a girl after hours of teasing with how much you both want it, and he thinks he could maybe get used to the stuff. After a few strokes it warms up, and then gets even warmer, and Tommy remembers that the guys might have been arguing about self-warming shit, too. It's a little weird, but not in a bad way, and Tommy slows down, uses just his fingers and the pad of his thumb, lets his eyes close and the sensation sink into his belly.

Okay, yeah. Much better than hand cream.

With everything slicker, wetter, it's easier to really tell the difference between a tight grip and a loose cuff, between teasing touches and fingers determined to find the sensitive spot just below his balls or at the edge of his slit. The gel tingles on his sac, and makes everything feel even needier than usual.

He's sighing, rocking, maybe even whimpering a little, quietly, because home alone or not he's still got neighbors. And hell, yes, this is what he was talking about. When he gets to the point that he's jerking hard, bucking his hips up, pressing in around his hole and at the crease of his thighs with his other hand, Tommy stops, right on the edge, backs of his forearms pressed to the mattress, keeping his hands off the sheets, giving himself a chance to catch his breath.

He wants to keep waiting, hold off, but his hand creeps back before he even knows it's gonna happen, pinching at his cockhead, massaging his balls, wrapping around his shaft, giving it something to fuck into. Slick heat, perfect friction, just like—

…that, and he's arching up, balanced on heels and shoulders, saying, "Fuck, _fuck_," as he comes.

When his eyes want to open and his fingers work again, Tommy fumbles for the lube packet to see what it's called, but he managed to rip right through the name and now the stuff has made the printing run so he can't read it even when he tries to put the edges back together. He so should have looked at it before he used it, because now he's going to have to ask Adam what it was. And maybe where to get some more. And that's just an invitation for Adam to say, "Told you so."

Except if Tommy can get Adam alone, and doesn't have to do it in front of Monte, too, Adam will probably just give him one of those smiles of his and offer to take him shopping. Cause Adam does give good advice. And he's nice like that.


End file.
